We are the Heroes of our Time
by Arseneau
Summary: 'Porthos' voice was gentle and concerned and sympathetic and he hated it. He didn't deserve sympathy. He deserved to be whipped, to be hurt, because he had done this. ' A series of angsty/hurt/comfort oneshots centered around our favourite Musketeers inspired by songs from Eurovision 2017 :)
1. Blackbird

This is just a short drabble, but there are more to come. This is the first in a series of chapters that will be inspired by Eurovision 2017 songs. This is the first, inspired by the song Blackbird which will represent Finland this year. I hope you enjoy it! :)

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Anne looked longingly out of the window, trying desperately to stem the flow of tears. She stood there, not really looking at the view, trying to calm her beating heart. Her regency had begun so well, but there were nobles in the country who did not take to her style of regency and inclusivism. So, at her son's birthday celebrations, a young man had burst out of the crowd, and fired a shot, meant to pierce her heart. It had done so.

Because the bullet meant for her chest, had hit Aramis' instead.

More burning tears escaped her eyes and she wiped them away with delicate fingers. Louis was currently in the company of his governess and so she had curtly dismissed those who accompanied her and had secluded herself in her rooms so that she could break in private. When the sobs came, they overwhelmed her, forcing her to sink onto the velvet cushions on her chaise lounge. The bullet could not have been far from his heart and she knew that he would not survive this. She prayed to her God to save him, to do anything, but she saw no sign.

So, now, ten minutes later, she stood at the window. A quiet chirping caught her attention. There was a blackbird sat on her window sill. He looked at her curiously, his head tilted. There was a tiny chip on its beak, and she knew she had seen this bird before. He had been at her window during that quiet evening when she had laid with Aramis after she made him her Minister. She felt a rush of anger towards the bird and his chirping and waved her hand to shoo him away.

But he did not move.

She held her hand out to the bird and, slowly, the bird stepped onto it. She moved her hand further into the room, and the bird did not move. She shook her hand slowly and still, the blackbird remained stood on her hand. He pecked at her hand affectionately. She smiled in spite of herself.

Suddenly, there was an urgent knock at the door and, startled, the blackbird took off. She watched it go in dismay as the door opened.

"Your Majesty?" Anne turned to the messenger, who was smiling.

"Yes?" The man bowed deeply.

"I have been sent to inform you that Minister Aramis will fully recover."

He bowed and made his exit, but she hardly noticed. It was as if her heart was whole again. It beat with renewed joy and anticipation. She turned to the window once again and marveled in its beauty, for where only a few minutes ago the world had been dull and grey, it was once again filled with colour. She thanked her God for returning Aramis to her and rushed to the door. She placed a hand on the door handle and breathed deeply, composing herself. She turned one last time to look at the window.

The blackbird was standing there and he chirped.

She smiled and wrenched the door open.


	2. If I Fell, Would You Catch Me?

Some people have asked for a second part for the first chapter from Aramis' POV so I shall get to work on that, but in the meantime, this is the second fic, inspired by Never Give Up On You by Lucie Jones, the UK entry for Eurovision 2017. Thank you so much to **Deana** , **Aednat** , **dianatolveira** , **JMP** and **Issai** for your wonderful reviews and to **TheMadSister** , **lluviayui** and **jadziaa** as well for the favourites and to **bcblueeyes** , **CandyCakes** and **Helensg** who followed :) You make an inexperienced writer very happy! This is titled, _If I Fell, Would You Catch Me?_

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They had agreed to meet in the garrison at the end of the day, to go to the tavern, but when Porthos saw the look on Athos' face, he knew that was the furthest thing from what was on his mind. Aramis stormed past Porthos towards his room and Athos sighed.

"Athos...?"

"Adele."

"What...?" Athos' face was grim, "Oh."

"Go with him."

Porthos nodded and shadowed Aramis to his room. Aramis had been so absorbed in his thoughts, in his grief, that he hadn't noticed Porthos following him and jumped when the door was closed behind him.

"'Mis..."

Porthos' voice was gentle and concerned and sympathetic and he hated it. He didn't deserve sympathy. He deserved to be whipped, to be hurt, because he had done this. If only he had stayed away, if only he hadn't been so selfish, Adele would still be alive. It was all his fault. He could feel the hatred, self-loathing and anger building and he lashed out. He raged blindly, taking his anger out on anything he could find. He kicked the table, splintering it and picked up a chair, throwing it at the wall, where it smashed. It was as if a tornado had blown into the room; nothing was left untouched by Aramis' fury. Porthos watched silently, his heart aching for the smaller man. He knew what it was to have loved and lost. He shifted from one foot to the other, trying to work out the best method to help the marksman.

"'Mis..."

Aramis stopped, breathing heavily.

"You should go." His voice was hollow and empty.

"I'm not goin'"

"Go, leave me," He whispered, "Like they all do."

Porthos' brow furrowed and he stepped closer to his brother in all but blood and gripped the lapel of his doublet. Aramis' hands jolted upwards at the sudden movement, closing around Porthos' wrists in a tight grip. The marksman tried to push him away, but Porthos' grip, as always, was stronger.

"I will never give up on you."

The grip Aramis had on Porthos' wrists slackened and he fell into the larger Musketeer's embrace. His knees threatened to buckle but Porthos held him tighter as he crumbled. The sound of heart wrenching sobs filled the room, and Porthos' heart broke.

Aramis did not deserve this.

Yes, Aramis was a flirt who could probably charm any woman if he tried, but beneath all of that he was kind and loyal and true to a fault. He had lost so much, given so much of himself, to the Cardinal already. He had had no right to take Adele from him. First Savoy, now this. Porthos' arms tightened around his sobbing brother. He manoeuvred Aramis gently so that they were sat on his bed, the only thing not touched by his brother's storm of emotions.

Eventually, Aramis' breathing evened out and the sobs stopped. Porthos stayed silent for a few moments, waiting for Aramis to pull away, but instead, soft snores echoed around the room. Porthos smiled and eased himself backwards, so they were both lying on Aramis' bed. He adjusted his grip on Aramis and closed his eyes.

There would be time to talk tomorrow.


End file.
